The writer and the boxer - a sweet romance

Chapter 12

This would've been day 50 and I am wondering why I was still counting down the days even after the stupid 'incident'. Even while I'm thinking about it I knew the real reason I kept checking, the same reason I secretly spied on his workout sessions. 'I was still interested.'

After all this time I still wanted to see him. Watch his body go through its routine. I still hoped that he would come to my door, sit on my couch and drag me onto his lap while smelling my hair.

I had done it over with blonde highlights this time. I had made the appointment in ode of the fight and totally forgot to cancel.

I had not gotten much poetry added for the time apart. It was becoming difficult and I couldn't find the focus to submit anything new to my poetry book. I scowled as my mind was blank just as the screen in front of me. I needed some inspiration. I needed Luc. I wanted Luc and got angry with myself for evening thinking about wanting him.

My doorbell rang, taking me away from my thoughts and I scrambled out of my chair with high hopes, listening to my pulse sing a high pitched tune. The song drawled on as I opened the door and signed for a package from a place I never heard about. My pulse started singing again when I opened the box to find a ticket enclosed with a boxing-glove brooch. This was not what I had expected and I wasn't prepared to deal with this. Now.

I stared at it for the whole of my eternity which stretched on to infinity, hoping that it would somehow, magically change into 'him'.

'Thanks for the gift. Thanks for remembering me. I would try to be there. I would desperately try not to miss this occasion and I am humbled and oh so very sorry for overreacting'.

The words skimmed across my mobile and I hit the send button before I could overthink everything I had written.

I looked across to the balcony and saw nothing. I waited a few minutes and saw no movement at all. I wasn't aware of his return to his own place but I wasn't privy to such information anymore.

I turned up my nose and sauntered into the kitchen feeling the anger that was building inside me erupt and heard the words spewing out of my mouth.

Just as easily, my severed tongue had been healed and I was spewing venom with little intent of following through.

'Who did he think he was to just assume that I would know anything?'

'Didn't he think for himself and shouldn't he had explained everything to me?'

'Am I some kind of mind reader or something?'

'He could take those gloves and ride it from now until doomsday, I am not going!!'

Even after I thought the words I knew the last bit wasn't true. I was going to his fight. He invited me. He even sent the ticket. If he hadn't I would not have gone and my mind would've been in torment going through all the reasons why he did not want me to be there.

But he still wanted me to be there! My heart sang a lullaby as I twirled with the idea and touched the brooch. He wanted me there. My presence was needed in his space while he did what he considered as 'work'. He wanted me to be a witness and experience his world even after my angry words and kicking him out. Even after all of that he still thought about me.

I laughed out loud to my clothes and pillows and said the words even louder just to hear them in some form.

I was still smiling when the reply came:

'Please wear the brooch. It would be nice to see you with it on'.

I grinned now as his reply confirmed he really wanted my presence. Yes, I'll go to his thing and cheer as loud as I can and hope I don't throw up in the process.

AN - isn't it the simple things, the smallest gestures that make a bigger impact? What do you think?

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